Black
by MissScarletInTheLibrary
Summary: A smutty prompt that came from the lovely Tumblr swamp. Dean has a thing for Seth's black leather gloves, Seth loves to exploit this particular kink. Ambrollins. Pure smut. Power play/Masturbation.


**A/N: This story came from a post that was circulating on Tumblr, my name was mentioned as someone who should try to turn the prompt into a fic, and I wanted to take up the challenge. I'm new to Ambrollins, but I love this pairing. Let me know what you think! This is pure smut.**

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><p>Dean was in pain. Real, physical pain.<p>

He winced as he limped backstage, unwrapping his tape and dumping it in a trashcan. "Fuck," he hissed, shoving a hand through his hair as he made his way back to the locker room. Tonight had been fucking _painful_. He couldn't wait to hit the showers and ease the ache.

Glancing around furtively, he checked that no one was watching him before quickly palming his dick through his pants, trying to shift it into a more comfortable position. The outline was evident through his jeans, hard and thick, digging into his thigh.

Seth was a fucker. He had _purposefully_ ground his tight little ass against Dean's crotch, swiveling his hips without shame and rubbing his dick until he popped a stiffy halfway through their match...on live fucking television. He wouldn't be surprised if Vince fined him for his obvious ring boner, while that little shit would talk his way out of a punishment with a shrug of his shoulders and an innocent smile.

"Dean…"

He stopped in his tracks and cocked his head, unsure if he had imagined that voice calling his name. All of his blood was currently heading south of the border, he didn't have a great grip on reality at that moment.

"Oh Deannnnn…"

Dean swung around to find Seth standing a few feet away, still sweaty and shirtless. He took a few steps closer, getting into Dean's personal space, but not quite touching.

"What do you want, Seth?" Dean asked, rubbing at his collarbone. He didn't have time for Seth's usual post-match taunting, not when he could be jacking off to the memory of how that juicy ass had felt grinding on his cock.

"Solid match, Dean," Seth murmured, staring at Dean's lips. His tongue poked out and slid along his lower lip. Dean followed it with great interest, admiring the wet sheen left in its wake.

"Yeah, we always get the job done," Dean agreed, shrugging casually, wanting this to be a short-lived face off.

"Looks like you haven't quite _finished off_ this job just yet," Seth smirked, gliding his fingertips over Dean's dick. Dean's breath caught in his throat, his eyes sliding shut, a soft groan rumbling through his chest.

"I don't have time for you to be a cock tease, Seth," he said firmly. "You've already done enough of that tonight. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to rub one out."

Seth's hand shot out and grabbed Dean's wrist. "No. You're coming with me."

Dean raised his eyebrows, sceptical, "…I am? And why would I do that?"

Seth leaned in close, wearing that familiar smug smile of his. "…Because I said so."

Dean's stomach lifted, feeling an overwhelming desire to follow him, but determined not to give in so easily. He snorted and rolled his eyes, pulling his arm back, but Seth refused to release him. "Let go, Seth. You don't own me, you don't get to tell me what to do."

Seth's eyes hardened, anger flashing in the brown depths. He tightened his grip on Dean and pressed the heel of his palm against Dean's crotch. "Yes. I. Do. You're going to follow me and do exactly as I say. Because you want it. You want _me_."

Dean's limbs weakened at those words, unable to deny the truth in them. Seth always knew how to get him worked up, and what he needed to get off. He had particular tastes, a knowledge that Seth exploited mercilessly whenever he felt like it…even backstage at work.

Seth smiled triumphantly when he saw Dean bow his head, and dragged him down the hallway, pulling him behind an empty merch stand. Seth leaned back against the wall, his hands landing on Dean's hips, his thumbs inching up the material of his black tank top to stroke the smooth skin of Dean's flat stomach.

Dean shuddered at the feel of the soft leather on his bare skin. It elicited a response in him that he couldn't quite understand. Ever since Seth had started wearing the gloves, he had wanted to feel them on him, wanted Seth to do as he pleased if he just got to feel them exploring his skin. His body tingled with anticipation, shots of electricity spreading outward from where Seth was touching him. Seth watched him carefully, noting with pleasure how Dean's eyes closed and his teeth sank into his bottom lip.

"You're going to do what I want," he whispered, moving his hands higher, purposefully digging his fingers into Dean's skin as they went. "No bitching, no objections, no brattiness. If you don't give me what I want, I'll make sure that you don't come tonight. You'll be hard and wanting, but won't get to experience that sweet release that you're craving right now. Understood?"

Dean opened his eyes, his mouth widening in surprise, silently pleading with Seth not to do that to him. It seemed like a fate worse than death right now. He needed to come so fucking _badly._ He nodded enthusiastically, hoping that it would satisfy the man in front of him.

Seth arched a brow, his expression cold.

Dean licked his lips and nodded again, "Yes. I understand. I'll be a good boy. I promise."

Seth chuckled darkly, "We'll see. Get on your knees."

Despite his promise, Dean's natural reaction was always to disobey. He buried that urge with some effort and sank to his knees slowly, gazing up at Seth with wide, hopeful eyes.

"So...now what?" Dean rasped out, shifting around, trying to relieve the ache in his groin.

Seth didn't answer right away, choosing instead to run his hands through his dark hair, a movement that emphasised the definition in his biceps. He made a little noise of satisfaction that went straight to Dean's crotch. "Take out your dick."

Dean almost sighed out his thanks, grateful to be able to touch himself. He hurriedly popped open his jeans and tore down the zipper, freeing his hard length from the confines of the unforgiving denim. He stared down at it, cupping it in his palm, noticing how red and swollen it was. Who knew there was such suffering in his pleasure? Or how much he enjoyed that suffering…

"Look at how desperate you are," Seth commented casually from above him. "Do you think you deserve to touch yourself?"

Dean nodded adamantly, raising his eyes to meet Seth's once more. "Yes. Please. _Please_."

Seth eyed him carefully, his expression unreadable. "I like seeing you like this, on your knees at my feet, hanging on my every word, ready to obey every order that I choose to give."

Dean watched him with reverence, knowing that Seth was speaking the truth, no matter how much it irked his naturally rebellious impulses.

"Play with it." The whispered words made Dean's dick twitch. He eagerly clamped his fingers around his cock and started to slowly stroke it, groaning at the first touch. This friction, he had been dreaming about this friction from the very first brush of Seth's ass during the match.

Dean wasn't even aware that he was moaning until Seth slapped a gloved hand over his mouth. "Be quiet! Or do you want the entire roster to find you here on your knees for me, touching yourself like a needy little slut?"

Dean's eyes lit up, his lips forming a smirk beneath Seth's hand. He moaned around the glove, squeezing his dick a little harder. Seth shook his head, "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't be a brat, but I guess you can't help being a slut for me, can you? It's your purpose, it's why I keep you around."

Dean increased his speed, the slide of his cock through his fist producing a wet, messy sound.

"You like this, don't you?" Seth stated. When Dean winked up at him, he grabbed hold of his hair and yanked on the roots. Dean grunted roughly, his hips fucking his hand eagerly. He knew that he had always been a bit of a masochist – his death matches were proof of that – but it was only since knowing Seth that he realised how much of a pain slut he was.

"Answer me," Seth demanded, removing his hand from Dean's mouth.

Dean remained silent, staring up at Seth as he continued to jerk himself off. His abs were seizing up with the effort, his body tense and driven by the desire to find release. He was covered in sweat, his hair messy and sticking up at odd angles. Seth always thought he looked beautiful when he was working for it, when he reached the precipice of his need and begged to be pushed over the edge.

…But Dean wasn't ready to beg yet.

"If that's how you want to play it..." Seth looked so devious right then, his eyes dark and dangerous. He was a born sadist, he loved to see how much Dean could take, loved to observe every little physical reaction that he could bring out in the stubborn, unruly man at his feet.

Seth slapped Dean sharply, the unexpected sting blooming into a rosy glow on his cheek. "Mmmm, _fuck_!" Dean groaned, already needing more. "That all you got, Seth? That was _pathetic_."

"Pathetic is groping your dick on your knees at the feet of another man, loving the feel of leather smacking against your skin," Seth taunted, slapping Dean's other cheek. "There. Now they match."

Dean's head bowed for a moment before he looked back up at Seth, sticking his tongue out and _laughing_ at his treatment. "You've got weak wrists. We need to work on that if you wanna give me something that I'll remember."

Seth chuckled, shaking his head. He grasped Dean's hair and wrenched his head back, putting strain on his neck. He cupped Dean's jaw, smoothing his thumb over the red blush that had appeared. "And you've got a fucking death wish." Seth reared his hand back and delivered another strike, following it up with a backhanded slap across the other cheek. The utter bliss that filled Dean's blue eyes didn't go unnoticed. "Oh? You like that, huh? Has the pain slut decided to shut up?"

Seth pressed his palm to the back of Dean's head and shoved him face first into his crotch before he could answer, holding him there with both hands.

"That's right, fight me. It makes this more fun," Seth said mockingly. "Don't act like you don't fucking love it, feeling my dick right in your face, being smothered by it. This is where you belong." He punctuated his statements by jerking roughly on Dean's hair again, earning more moans. "And don't you dare stop touching that cock. You better tell me when you're close."

Dean shook his head, intentionally rubbing his nose against Seth's stiff length. Seth jumped at the contact and tilted Dean's head slightly, opening up his cheek for three more hard slaps. He then thrust his hips forward, trapping Dean against his groin once again. He bent over, slithering a gloved hand down Dean's tank top and pinching a nipple brutally. He felt Dean gasp against the leather of his pants, his body jerking and trembling in response, struggling to maintain the rhythm as he fucked into his fist.

That's when Seth heard it – the telltale whimper. The noise that meant Dean was surrendering. It was Seth's favourite sound in the entire world.

Determined to prove a point about control, Seth ground his dick against Dean's face, reminding him of his place. This earned him a prolonged round of muffled whimpers. Seth glanced down as he moved, watching Dean's red, swollen dick slide slickly into his clasped hand. It was an erotic, obscene view that made his own cock pulse and throb.

He yanked Dean's head back, his fist still bound up in the messy blond curls, and stared into glazed over blue eyes. Dean's lids were lust-heavy, his mouth open in a defined O, exhaling short little breaths. His pupils had been blown wide, black heavy depths that almost edged out the ring of pale blue entirely.

"Tell me what you want," Seth ordered.

Dean blinked slowly, attempting to bring himself back. But he wasn't quick enough for Seth's liking.

A stinging slap to his right cheek did the job instead.

Dean's eyes cleared immediately, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he stared up at Seth. "I want to come. So badly. Please, Seth."

"Oh, I can see that," Seth smirked, crouching down and knocking Dean's hand out of the way. He grasped Dean's dick and tugged on it in fast, hard pulls. His other hand snaked possessively around the back of Dean's neck, forcing him to look at him while he jacked him off. "_Beg_ for it…"

Dean's face scrunched up in a special kind of agony, his jaw held tightly, his body highly strung with tension. "Seth. Please. Please. Please. Please let me come. I've wanted to since you started pushing your ass against me, I'm so fucking horny, I feel like I'm gonna burst. Only you can do this to me. Only you can get me this worked up. Please please please…"

Seth pursed his lips, considering the request, his hand still roughly fisting Dean's swollen cock. Dean's tortured pleas filled the silence, his whispered begging apparently leaving Seth unmoved.

Seth's hand abruptly stilled, allowing Dean a moment to sigh out his frustration on a trembling breath.

"Yeah, you can come."

Dean was surprised that Seth gave in to him. He turned his head and kissed Seth's forearm in thanks, his hand wrapping around his length, which was now completely wet with pre-cum. He was fucking _leaking_ the stuff.

Seth stood back up and caught hold of Dean's hair again. "You better fucking come hard for me, Dean. I'm taking time out of my evening for this, to watch you jerk off and beg for permission to come. I have better things to do with my time. You should be thankful that I bothered to help you out."

Dean nodded fervently, staring up at Seth with wide adoring eyes.

"Then say it," Seth spit out, grabbing Dean by the chin and smacking his cheek again. "Thank. Me." He punctuated each word with a slap, knowing how much Dean enjoyed rough treatment.

Dean huffed out a strained breath, "Thank you. This is exactly what I needed. Thank you so fucking much."

Seth smiled condescendingly, "I _know_ I'm exactly what you need. Hurry up. What's taking you so long? That cock is so fucking hard, you've got to be close. If you don't get there in the next twenty seconds, I'll walk away and leave you like this. You know I don't deal in empty threats, Dean. Give me that cum."

Dean knew not to close his eyes. Seth never liked that. He wanted to see him fall apart at his feet, spurred on to his release by dirty talk and the persistent slaps to his face. The sharp stings heightened his pleasure even further, the prickling pain spreading like fire under his highly sensitised skin all the way down to his _aching_, dripping cock.

Seth held his face and slap slap slapped Dean's cheek, the soft leather making a smacking sound when it hit his soaked skin. Dean's hips were pistoning forward erratically, his mind focused solely on releasing his cum from his body, to do exactly as Seth demanded.

"Come _on_, Dean. Do _not_ fucking disappoint me."

At those words, Dean's seed spurted out in hot, ropey streams. His strangled moan was music to Seth's ears. Dean leaned forward slightly, panting heavily, his hands on his thighs keeping him steady. Seth returned to a crouched position, pushing Dean's hair out of his eyes.

"Good boy," he murmured into his ear, fondling his cock gently, pulling the last few pulses and muttered curses from him. When he removed his hand, his glove was sticky and coated in cum. Dean glanced it and opened his mouth obediently, allowing Seth to push a finger in.

Dean sighed contentedly as he licked and sucked at Seth's gloved fingers, his tongue cleaning up every last drop of his climax.

Seth stroked Dean's hair, watching his digits ease in and out of that pretty pink mouth.

"You're such a good boy, Dean."

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><p><strong>AN: Please review, it means a lot and helps me as a writer!**


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